


Turning IV

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Series: Turning [4]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Transformation, Community: wtf27, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-02
Updated: 2006-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando returns to the caravan and to Sean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning IV

The caravan is well into the mountains by the time Orlando returns to himself. He has no choice but to rejoin them, much as he'd rather run away again.

He slips into Sean's tent on the third evening, sinking to his knees immediately, grateful to feel warmth on his skin but unsure how long it will last before Sean hands him what is his and throws him out onto the road.

Sean's awake the moment he hears Orlando's breathing outside the tent, and by the time Orlando's inside, Sean has his sword in hand, although he doesn't quite draw on Orlando. "So..."

That is not the reception Orlando expected, though he supposes the sword is unsurprising enough. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "I had to go."

"I imagine you did," Sean said. "Is it a curse? Or were you born that way? Or did you ask someone to do this to you?"

_It wasn't a dream, then._ Orlando shakes his head. "It was done to me when I was a child. It began when I became a man. I do not know why."

"How often?" It's hard for Sean to keep his voice steady but he manages somehow.

"Every month." Orlando hangs his head. He's grown fond of Sean, surprisingly fond for so short a time, and now he wonders if it might be better for Sean to simply draw and kill him. He does not question how it is that his belly is full; Sean took care of him. It gives Orlando an almost unbearable pang, both of guilt and of longing.

"That must be difficult," Sean says quietly.

Orlando could almost prostrate himself, the words are such a relief. "It is," he whispers instead. He shakes his head. "I'll leave the caravan if you want ask me to. I know it's...ill-advised to keep a shapechanger about. Less so for a dragon."

"The men will be terrified of you," Sean says. He's explained to Marcellus that he thinks Orlando is a shapechanger and the caravan master was, to put it mildly, more than a little nervous about that fact. However the man had said that he'd not leave anyone to cross the pass at this time of year on their own.

"Believe me," Orlando snorts wryly, "I'm just as terrified of them."

"Thanks to what I did on the road, they think I can control you," Sean says ruefully. "Or at least keep you from attacking. Can I?"

Orlando's first instinct is to say that he isn't certain _what_ might happen when he's in that form. His memories are hazy and indistinct, like dark dreams.

_But I never attacked him. That means I knew him._

"Yes," he says after a hesitation. "You may well be the only one who can."

"Perhaps, then," Sean says, wondering what in hell he's getting into, "we can make this work." Even as he says the words, he wonders why he just can't leave his upbringing behind and be a simple mercenary who has no time for the rules of chivalry.

Orlando, too, is wondering why Sean hasn't simply set him aside. "Perhaps," he murmurs, and he is perplexed, yes -- but glad.

"You thought I'd just let you go?" Sean says, reading Orlando's expression. "I'll admit that the thought crossed my mind. But winter's coming on and you'd not do well here in the mountains on your own; no man would."

"I'm not a man for long," Orlando almost snorts. Then he simply crouches down and puts his head in his hands.

"More man than dragon," Sean says, resting a hand lightly on Orlando's shoulder. "Or I'd be dead now."

There is that at least, and right now Orlando's incredibly thankful for it. He covers Sean's hand with his own, sighing. He would complain about his stomach aching, but he has a feeling he ate something saleable and he doesn't want to remind Sean of that just now.

"Do you need anything?" Sean asks, feeling a little at a loss.

For a moment, _you_ seems the only thing to come to mind. "A warm bed," Orlando says after a pause. _And forgiveness._

"I think I can manage that," Sean says, unsure if a warm bed also means a bed partner or not. "Why don't you settle down and I'll go talk to Marcellus and get some hot water for tea."

"Thank you," Orlando sighs, wishing to bury his disappointment. He wouldn't blame Sean now for not wanting anything to do with him; of course the man isn't going to leap back into bed immediately with a shapeshifter. _One who eats the stock,_ he reminds himself as his stomach rolls again. He climbs into the bed and covers himself, curling up under the furs.

By the time Sean's managed to plead Orlando's case with Marcellus and the other guards, it's been about a half an hour or so and the sun is beginning to set already. Taking up a couple of heavy mugs of hot water from the communal pot, Sean heads back to his own tent. "Are you still awake?" he asks quietly as he digs through his bag for the tea he bought before they left the city.

"Yes," Orlando whispers. He sits up in the pallet. "When you're finished with that," he adds almost too quickly, "will you...come here?" He doesn't want to admit to the need he feels now; Sean has no attachments, and Orlando knows better. But he wishes to feel skin on his own.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want company," Sean says, making the tea. He hands one of the mugs to Orlando. "But yes, I'm be glad to share the bed with you again. And more if you aren't tired."

"Not tired, no," Orlando murmurs. "Ashamed. Tired _of_ it. But not tired."

"You said it was done to you as a child," Sean says, matter of factly. "Did you ask for it?"

"No." Orlando looks down at his knees under the furs. "I'm not certain I could speak."

"Then where's the shame in it?" Sean asks, sipping some of his tea. "It isn't as if you had any choice in the matter."

"No..." Orlando says doubtfully. "But we are not looked upon very kindly. The shame can't be helped."

"Perhaps," Sean says. "I've spent long enough trying to ignore my own birthright to believe that." He winces, wondering what on earth drove him to say that.

"When I was apprenticed to a weapons master," Orlando tells Sean, staring into the fire -- and then he glances up with a wry smile --"he said, 'Men in this world are privileged with one of two things: name or money. Those who have neither use weapons.'" Orlando studies Sean a moment, thoughtful. "Why would you deny yourself that birthright?"

"Because it denied me," Sean says, gazing off into the distance, seeing not the plain walls of his hide tent, but the disgust on his father and brothers' faces. "I was accused of a crime I did not commit and my kin chose to believe her...my accuser. I left." He's well aware that, as a tale goes, it's grievously short, but right now it's all Orlando needs to know.

"I'm sorry," Orlando murmurs quietly. He looks down at his cup, turning it in his hands. "I cannot imagine how that must have felt. I was orphaned when I was young; I have no kin. At times I think it might be better that way."

"I would have preferred never to have a name than to have good one and lose it," Sean says and then shrugs. "But that's not in our hands; the gods will have their games and all we can do is make something of ourselves with what little they allow us to have."

Orlando snorts; that is a great truth. He drinks his tea quietly, allowing the warmth to settle into him, and then sets the cup aside and pushes back to make room. "Will you sleep?" he offers, and then wonders why. Sleep is not what he wants.

"Is sleep all you want to do?" Sean asks, finishing his own tea.

There's a brief hesitation, and then Orlando lowers his eyes. "No."

"Good," Sean says, putting his cup aside and leaning in for a kiss. "I won't demand this in return for protecting you. I'd do that anyway."

"You're a good man." Orlando arches up to give that kiss, tugging Sean down with him, wrapping his arms strongly around Sean's waist. "You could demand it, if you wanted to."

"Wouldn't be right," Sean says, his hands already busy with the laces on his tunic and breeches. "Not that you're not enough to tempt a man to do wrong...."

Orlando smiles at that, pleased. He curls up enough to slip out of his own clothes, squirming under the furs, and then tugs Sean back down to him naked. He clambers up on top, pressing Sean's shoulders to the pallet. "How may I please you, then? I wouldn't want to tempt you too badly," he teases.

"Ride me," Sean says staring up at Orlando, unable to believe that this is the same being he saw devour an ox not three days ago. "I'll hold onto your hips," he promises. "I'll keep you here."

_The words,_ the words are perfect, and Orlando all but falls over Sean, kissing him hungrily. He believes, now, that Sean _can_ keep him here. He fumbles for the oil in the place Sean keeps it, just under the furs at the head of the pallet, and he slicks himself impatiently, scarcely reacting to the penetration of his own fingers. It's when he sinks down onto Sean's cock that he groans, arching back and sliding down all at once, hands covering Sean's on his hips.

"Gods," Sean groans, his hands sliding up Orlando's thighs to grasp his hips. "So good...." He thrusts up, pulling Orlando down a little, wanting not to think about how this boy isn't what he seems.

Sean's hands are fantastic, holding him, pulling Orlando down onto the thick cock impaling him, and he wishes somehow he could stay here, just like this. Never change, never bother with where he's been or what he's done that he scarcely remembers. Never worry about his things having been found and taken during the days when he is not himself. He wishes Sean _could_ keep him here.

Once they've set up a rhythm, Sean keeps one hand on Orlando's hip and brings the other up to rest on Orlando's stomach. "Give me your wrists," he says, his voice hoarse. When Orlando obeys, Sean grips tight, pressing Orlando's wrists against his body.

Orlando groans heavily, tipping his head down and closing his eyes tightly to better feel Sean's grip on him. "Thank you," he whispers without meaning to, and begins to move harder, faster.

"Gods," Sean moans again, doing his best to keep pace with Orlando. He really can't and so goes still, letting Orlando ride him hard. "Not letting you ... go," he gets out through gritted teeth. He'll remember it later, remember and realize that was the moment when Orlando became more than just a pretty boy to keep Sean warm. Now, however, the realization is buried under a layer of need.

Shuddering, Orlando arches, throwing himself down harder. He aches where Sean buries himself over and over, but it is so good, so _perfect,_ a reminder that he is a man, that Sean wants him even now.

Still gripping Orlando's wrists, Sean reaches up with his other hand and begins to stroke Orlando's cock, his touch rough with urgency. "Now," he says, almost unable to get the words out while so close to orgasm. "With me."

Orlando barely manages to hitch in half a breath before it rocks through him, dragging a rough cry out of his throat. He moves all the faster for it, managing at the last to open his eyes, to watch Sean as he comes.

It's that, Orlando's eyes fixed on him, that sends Sean over the edge. He can't help the loud cry that bursts out of him as he comes, his fingers digging into Orlando's wrists. "Gods," he says with a moan when he can finally talk again. "Orlando..."

"Yes," Orlando breathes. He splays his hands over Sean's stomach, bracing himself somewhat, petting with his fingertips.

"Come down here," Sean says, "let me hold you."

The request surprises Orlando, but he is more than pleased to comply. He sinks down, pressing his lips to Sean's chest, then his mouth, moaning softly.

Sean returns the kiss eagerly, not wanting to think about anything. _I'm an idiot, a fool,_ he tells himself as he holds Orlando close. _He may want me to keep him from getting away, but when he's ready to leave, I won't be able to stop him._

It's easy to settle over Sean and relax, now. Sean has accepted him in spite of everything, in spite of Orlando's curse and Sean's own admission that he is not a romantic man, not a man looking for attachment. Orlando can accept that much. _As long as I can have this for a bit longer._

_-tbc-_


End file.
